


A Fraction of a Tick

by Scrawlers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Kissing Keith is all-encompassing, and that is a new—though not unwelcome—experience for Lotor.





	A Fraction of a Tick

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about a year ago, but in light of Tumblr being . . . Tumblr, I've decided to archive everything here, just in case.

Kissing Keith is all-encompassing, and that—something capturing his focus utterly—is a new experience for Lotor given how his mind generally circles around at least three separate objectives at once. But as his mouth works not against, but  _with_ Keith’s own, Lotor is only vaguely aware of the gentle thrum of the base’s lighting system, and the firm spring of Keith’s mattress beneath his legs. His senses are too wholly consumed by the faint taste of pechaya that lingers on Keith’s tongue, and the thick softness of Keith’s hair as he twines it around his fingers. Keith’s nails are short enough that it doesn’t hurt as he rakes his own fingers across the back of Lotor’s neck, a brief touch before he locks his arms in a tighter embrace and pulls himself closer. They breathe in tandem, but Lotor for longer, and he notices when Keith’s breath becomes shallower, when the little gasps in the brief moments their lips part become more pronounced. He wraps his arm more tightly around Keith’s waist, his fingers pressing into Keith’s side as he deepens their kiss; but as awareness of their situation (and  _Keith_ , always  _Keith_ in these moments) seeps through Lotor’s thoughts, more pronounced, he loosens his grip and draws back.

It doesn’t take a tick—it hardly takes a  _fraction_ of a tick. As Lotor leans back (his eyes opened, his awareness of their surroundings dialing back up to normal volume), Keith leans forward. A throaty sound of protest escapes him as his lips remain on Lotor’s, yet his drive rewards him with only two chaste kisses more. As Lotor pulls away, Keith has to use one hand to brace his weight against his mattress, and he releases the hold he had on Lotor’s hair as he finally draws back.

Lotor can’t help smiling broadly. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?” he teases, and Keith makes a face at him for only a moment before he ducks his head, his forehead bumping against Lotor’s shoulder. It’s as if that little nudge was all it took; soft laughter spills out of Lotor before he can stifle it. “Do you really like me that much?”

It’s a rhetorical question; it doesn’t need (nor does Lotor want) an answer. What has transpired between them over their time together is something that evades, and perhaps even  _defies_ , definition. Lotor has lived his life always planning seven steps ahead. Keith, however, lives in the moment, accepting and adapting to things as they come, and this aspect of Keith is one that Lotor has allowed himself to indulge in. When it comes to their relationship, and  _only_ their relationship, Lotor is more than happy to allow things—to allow  _them_ —to simply  _be_. That, he both feels and knows, is what is best ( _safest_ ) for them both.

But Keith, ever a deliverer of surprises, hums a little against Lotor’s arm before he mumbles, “Yeah.”

There is no air left in Lotor’s lungs, and his heart beats frantically, _erratically_  as it tries to rectify that. “Sorry?”

Keith lifts his head at last. There is a little smile on his lips; his eyes are blazing as he stares directly into Lotor’s own and says, “I said, yeah. I really do like you that much.” He pauses another fraction of a different tick before he asks, “What are you gonna do about it?”

The light in Keith’s eyes makes their grey-purple color even more vivid and striking than usual; the warmth, though tinged with a note of daring, in Keith’s voice lends it a cadence that makes Lotor’s own heart sing. Adamant honesty is one of Keith’s finer qualities, and in that moment, as their eyes remain locked and Keith’s words ( _I really do like you that much_ ) reverberate in Lotor’s mind, he  _feels_ Keith’s sincerity like a gentle electric charge tingling beneath his skin.

This awareness— _his_ awareness, his focus, is wholly for Keith. It doesn’t take a tick—it takes hardly a  _fraction_  of a tick before he acts on it. He combs his fingers back up through Keith’s hair, grasping at it in a tight grip as he snaps his other arm around Keith’s waist, drawing their bodies flush together. Keith smiles into their kiss; he’s triumphant, pleased that his gambit worked in his favor. It’s the sort of challenge Lotor is usually swift to answer, but as his heart drums a euphoric anthem in his chest, all Lotor can do is smile back.


End file.
